


Dryad in Lust

by Slice_of_Apple



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Jean Kirstein, Charms, Clueless Eren, Clueless Jean, Denial of Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Hot Eren but what's new, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Lust Potion/Spell, M/M, Romance, Seduction, Sweet, Tears, Wine, don't forget the tears, dryad Eren, i am incapable of writing smut it always devolves into hopelessly romantic fluff, very little in the way of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:01:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26090803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slice_of_Apple/pseuds/Slice_of_Apple
Summary: Dryad  Eren must have sex. Immediately. Or face dire consequences. College senior Jean is trying to get over a messy breakup.  He doesn't want any emotional entanglements. It seems like the perfect confluence of circumstances.  But are they both taking on more than they can handle? wink wink
Relationships: Jean Kirstein/Eren Yeager
Comments: 7
Kudos: 81





	Dryad in Lust

“Promise me one thing,” says Marco, looking Jean straight in the eye. “You will not, I repeat, you will NOT fall for someone tonight. There will be no mushy statements of love. You will not gaze dreamily into someone’s eyes. If anything happens tonight, it will be strictly physical. Promise?”

“I promise,” sighs Jean resignedly. It’s true that he falls easily and hard, and he’s a sucker for romance. All someone has to do is offer him a rose, for fuck’s sake, and he’s swooning at their feet. Or even a sappy glance. But after his recent breakup he’s in no shape to sift through any actual feelings. Anyway, there are unlikely to be any roses or sappy glances proffered at this late-night swim team party.

“In fact, that’s what I recommend for you for tonight. A good fuck with some hottie, preferably in a stairwell, or even in a bathroom. Get Reiner out of your head once and for all,” says Marco.

It seems like good advice. In theory. The problem is, Jean has never been up for one-night stands. He’s not even sure he can do it. He’d probably start giggling or shaking uncontrollably, maybe even have a seizure. Or, worse, he’d start pining for Reiner.

Jean ends up on the couch with these depressing thoughts swirling around in his head.

They’re at a swim team party because Marco is the captain of the men’s team. The other team members are all gathered around a keg, chugging beers. They are babbling at one another about the most recent swim meet, exchanging stories that have no relevance for Jean. Every once in a while, they’ll break out into some stupid group chant. Not for the first time, he wonders why he and Marco are roommates. He also wonders how much longer he’s going to sit here, sinking into this incredibly saggy couch. It’s the kind of couch that has been rescued from certain death in someone’s basement, or, more likely, off the street. 

The problem is, he doesn’t even have the energy to get up. The view is pretty good, too, of the swimmers with their lean, lanky bodies and halos of flyaway chlorine hair. Their jeans and old T-shirts give him plenty of opportunity to gaze at broad shoulders and muscular arms. One of them in particular is starting to turn a flicker of interest on in him, until Jean realizes that the guy fucking looks like Reiner; he has the same powerful build and craggy features. That’s when Jean decides to leave.

He makes a concerted effort to rise from the couch. But the couch is even worse than he thought. It’s constructed out of a material that has an unfortunate resemblance to quicksand. He wonders if he’s going to have to roll onto the floor first. 

He puts his hands down on the cushions for leverage, a move which sinks him even further into the couch’s murky depths. As he elevates a few inches into the air, he feels a hand push against his back, helping him up.

Once he’s halfway to his feet, he stumbles around. There was someone sitting right next to him who he hadn’t even noticed. Uncomfortably close, truth be told, almost underneath him. The guy’s hand is still held out to stabilize Jean’s teetering body. Jean blinks owlishly. 

“Who are you?” he mumbles, trying to recover from having been almost eaten by the couch.

The guy mutters something that Jean doesn’t hear.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Helping you maintain an upright position,” says the guy. He looks like a freshman, all round fresh face and smiles.

Jean feels like an old man, worn out and grumpy in the face of the youthful chirpiness before him. He grimaces and lurches towards the door.

Out in the fresh air, Jean feels a great deal better. He’s glad he at least made an effort. “That’ll show you, Reiner,” he says to no one in particular. He knows full well that Reiner no longer gives a flying fuck about what Jean does or doesn’t do. If he ever did.

He sighs, blowing out a long stream of air.

“The night is young, Jean.”

  
Jean nearly jumps out of his skin. There’s someone walking next to him.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asks, peering around. It’s the guy from the party, the one who helped him up from the couch. “How do you know my name?”

“I know Marco,” says the guy vaguely. Jean thinks this is a bit odd. He doesn’t remember ever seeing Marco with this guy.

He looks him over more carefully. Jean hadn’t noticed in the dim, sweaty light of the room, but the guy is hot. Smoking hot. His skin is practically glowing a deep golden color, even under the streetlamps, and his eyes are pools of water. He definitely looks like a freshman, though.

“How old are you?” he blurts out, before he can stop himself.

The guy blushes.

“172,” he says in a defensive manner.

“What?” asks Jean angrily. He’s in no mood to get jerked around.

“Oh, right. That works out to about… 20. In human years.”

“In _human_ years. What are you, a fucking dog?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Jean feels like kicking himself. Not only was that an incredibly rude thing to say, this guy is the farthest thing from a dog he can possibly imagine.

“I’m sorry,” he says, quickly. “That was obnoxious.”

The guy only chuckles. “That’s okay,” he says. “I like dogs.”

Jean shoots him a quizzical look. That wasn’t the point.

“So, what are you? A junior?”

“You could say that.”

They walk along together, Jean wondering what the point of this interaction is. He’s about to say, “Well, nice to meet you. Thanks for liberating me from that death trap,” when the guy puts a hand on his arm to stop him.

He looks up at Jean earnestly. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“You just did,” Jean grumps. On the other hand, he can’t help but also feel interested in what this guy wants to ask him.

The guy smiles faintly. “The thing is, Jean-”

It’s so weird to have this guy call Jean by his name without Jean knowing his that Jean interrupts him. “What’s _your_ name?”

“Sorry. Eren. Eren Jaeger.” He holds his hand out to shake Jean’s. Eren’s hand is smooth and cool, with an undertone of strength. An image of marble, or burnished wood, comes fleetingly to Jean’s mind.

“I actually have a proposition for you, Jean,” Eren continues. “I happen to be in a bit of a bind.” He pauses, plainly uncertain as to how to proceed. Jean’s interest is piqued. Eren stares off to the side, twisting his hands together.

“Yes?” says Jean, in what he hopes is an encouraging manner. The suspense is only increasing his curiosity.

Eren doesn’t look at him, but does proceed to say, in one long sentence, “Unless-I-have-sex-with-someone-tonight-I’m-in-danger-of- losing-my-tree-so-can-you-please-help-me-out?”

Jean’s eyebrows rise until they are tall half-moons. This was most definitely not what he expected to come out of Eren’s mouth.

“What?” he yelps.

Jean’s reaction seems to paradoxically calm Eren down. He explains soothingly. “Sorry to put you on the spot. But I really, really, really need to have sex tonight, or I’m going to get kicked out of my tree. I’m talking about a one-night stand, no strings attached, just you and me, for the next, say, three hours. I’ll drop you back in your room before the sun rises, and we can each go on our merry way.”

As this echoes Marco’s earlier words, Jean is struck with a thoroughly unpleasant idea.

“Is this a prank?” he asks furiously. “Did Marco set you up?”

“I assure you, this is nothing to do with Marco,” says Eren. He is fully composed now that the words are out in the open, floating around between them.

“But-but _why_?” is all Jean can think to say.

Eren sighs. “I’m terrible at random sexual encounters, which are kind of a must for dryads. I always tend to fall in love with the person. It never works out, and I’m stuck pining in my tree for years on end.” He runs a hand through his hair. “My boss gave me one last chance to fulfill my sexual obligation, and I’ve kept putting it off. It has to happen tonight.”

“Why does your boss have a vested interest in your sex life?”

“It’s one of Dionysus’s inflexible statutes. If we don’t contribute to the sexual energy in the world, we don’t get the privilege of our own tree.”

“Who’s Dionysus?”

Eren looks at Jean like he can’t believe that Jean could ask such an idiotic question. When he sees Jean is serious, he says, “He’s my boss. The head honcho. The guy at the top of the food chain.” Jean wonders what kind of organization Eren works for. He also can’t believe that someone in this day and age, or whenever this boss was born, would be named after the Greek god of wine and dancing, or whatever the fuck he represents. Maybe he’s part of the Greek mafia or something. Jean has no idea whether there even is a Greek mafia, but if there is one, he bets that someone named Dionysus is heading it. A maniacal micromanager who controls his underlings’ sex lives.

Jean stops his brain from going further down this rabbit hole. In fact, he can’t make any sense of the random stream of gobbledygook Eren spouted. It’s all clearly a load of bunk. On the other hand, there’s something refreshingly direct about the proposal at its heart. 

Jean hadn’t seriously been thinking of having a one-off tonight. But then he remembers his promise to Marco. And he thinks about Reiner. Specifically, opening Reiner’s unlocked door and seeing him with that fuckface Bertholdt, Reiner’s dick practically in Reiner’s ass. He’s almost certain that Reiner left the door unlocked on purpose. And he wants to wipe Reiner’s face permanently out of his memory.

Plus, there’s something about this guy. Jean realizes with a jolt that he is starting to become aroused. He looks at Eren more carefully. Eren is unbelievably alluring. Despite himself, he finds himself itching to run his fingers along the bare skin of Eren’s wrist, underneath his shirt, back down again along his chest…

“You’re so hot,” he mumbles. His voice feels thick. Is he salivating? Christ. He hasn’t been this turned on in a long time.

“It’s not really me,” Eren confesses. “It’s Natural Charm.”

“What do you mean, 'Natural Charm' ?”

  
“I used Natural Charm,” he says matter-of-factly. “Given how important the outcome is.” 

“What is Natural Charm?”

“It’s a… spell, that enhances charm, charisma, glamour, that sort of thing.”

“Not really very natural, then, is it?”

  
“Touché," Eren says, with a grin.

“Is that why you’re practically oozing sex?”

  
“Yeah. It’s powerful stuff, isn’t it? I used a triple dose, just to be sure. With an added twist of Seduction.”

  
“Very powerful,” agrees Jean. He doesn’t think he can stay another second in Eren’s presence without starting to dry hump him. He takes a small and very difficult step backwards. He tries unsuccessfully to tear his eyes away from the tantalizing sight of Eren’s collarbone. He clears his throat.

Eren looks at him hopefully, his puppy dog eyes disconcertingly at odds with the haze of sex that’s rising off his body. There is an actual haze, making the air around Eren shimmer and twist in the night air.

“Well? What do you think?”

  
Jean tries to think, but between the literal erotic fog rising in clouds from Eren’s body, and the thrumming in his dick, it’s hard to form any kind of coherent thought. There really is only one direction Jean is capable of going in from here.

“Uh, yeah, I’m happy to help you out.” He’s impressed that his voice is only a little bit raspy.

  
Jean half expects Eren to say, “Oh, goody,” like a kid getting a treat at the candy store. But he doesn’t. If anything, Eren looks a tad mournful.

Jean can’t help feeling a little let down by this reaction. He’s so horny he could fuck Eren right here on the sidewalk, and Eren looks _sad_. 

This thought is like a glass of cold water to his face and it even manages to pierce the bubble of his intense desire. He takes another two painful steps back.

“We don’t have to do this,” Jean says. “If you don’t want to.” It’s hard to get the words out. He has to grit his teeth and force them between his lips. He doesn’t honestly know why he’s making the effort- the whole idea is Eren’s after all. But there’s a small space at the back of his brain that is still his own, and he knows that deep down he doesn’t want to fuck someone who is not equally enthusiastic.

“It’s true that I would have preferred things to have happened… differently,” Eren murmurs. Shit. Eren probably wanted to end up with someone else and is only settling for Jean because Jean's such a pathetic, sad sack that he's available. The thought depresses Jean. Then Eren’s voice gets louder and cheerier as he says, “Believe me, I’ll still have a great time. And remember, you’ll be saving me from homelessness.”

Well, thinks Jean, that’ll have to be good enough. He can at least enjoy Eren and his Charms for the night. He grins wolfishly and sticks his hands under his armpits to stop them from doing something wholly inappropriate, like reaching out and grabbing Eren’s ass. He finds himself hopping slightly from foot to foot.

Eren seems to realize what’s going on, because he lets out a small snort.

“It’s not funny,” says Jean, through his teeth.

“It kind of is,” counters Eren, now openly laughing at Jean’s obvious discomfort. “I didn’t realize it would be this strong.”

“Yeah,” grunts Jean. “Way too fucking strong.” He tries to move things along in the direction they need to go, and quickly. “Where do we take care of, uh, business?” he asks.

“We can go to my place. As long as you don’t mind going into a tree?” It’s a question.  
“A tree house? Right, yeah, sure.” It doesn’t sound that private, or even that safe. At this point, however, all Jean wants is to be naked, or, rather, for Eren to be naked. He’s not that fussed about whether he himself has clothes on or not. 

Eren takes pity on him, and beckons Jean to follow. Eren is walking, then trotting, and then he’s dancing, whirling and twirling ahead of Jean, leading them both forwards. Jean has to run as fast as he can to keep up, and they’re flying across the campus, across the fields, and into the woods beyond. When they are surrounded by trees, Eren stops abruptly. He pulls Jean close. When Eren’s lips touch his, Jean nearly jumps out of his skin. Heat courses through his body. What the hell?! He’s never experienced a kiss like this.

Eren swings Jean around and starts backing him up against one of the trees: a large oak tree, Jean thinks. Jean knows he’s going to hit the rough trunk at any moment, and he doesn’t mind, as long as he can keep Eren pressed up against him. 

But instead of bumping up against a solid tree trunk, Jean finds himself in a different place entirely. Eren breaks off and Jean is left, panting and gasping, looking around him. 

They’re inside what seems to be a kind of room, or maybe a cave; there is only a dim light, and the edges fade into darkness.

“Where are we?” he manages to pant out. He can barely catch his breath, what with the all-out sprinting, and then that fucking kiss.

“This is my tree,” says Eren. His voice is reserved, but Jean can tell that, beneath the Charm and the Seduction, there is a note of quiet and nervous pride as he says these words. It’s obviously a very special place for Eren.

Jean finds himself feeling strangely touched that he has been invited somewhere which is important to Eren. He takes a long and careful look around.

“It’s lovely,” he says, because it is. There’s a soft glow of light, coming from somewhere, Jean’s not sure where, and the surrounding darkness has a wonderfully safe, enclosed feeling to it, like being wrapped up in comfort. It smells delightful, too, like the woods at night where Jean grew up.

Eren’s eyes crinkle when he smiles up at Jean. Jean gets a funny, warm feeling inside at the unguarded sweetness of the smile. He blushes and turns away. His eyes light on something off to Eren’s side.

“What is _that_?” he asks, almost laughing. It’s an odd little statue of a near-naked man with a huge pot belly, holding a bunch of grapes over his head, mouth tipped up and open. And are those hooves instead of feet? It almost looks like a small shrine, trinkets placed carefully around the base.

  
“Shhhh,” says Eren, looking alarmed. “That’s my boss. He gets very angry if you don’t treat him with respect.”

“Oh,” says Jean. Eren is plainly serious. Jean ducks his head in a little bow, to show deference.

“Oooooh." Eren's eyes glow. "He left us a present!" He beckons Jean over to a small round table with two chairs around it. Set atop the table are a glass jug filled with a dark red wine and two wine glasses. There is also a platter full of glistening red grapes. Jean has never been much of a wine drinker, but there is something tantalizing about the richness of the color, like he could sink into it.

They sit down and Eren pours them each a small drink. Jean nearly chokes on the first mouthful.

“Whew! That’s impressive!” he gasps. It’s not so much the alcohol content, although it’s definitely got a kick to it. It’s more the flavor, like liquid velvet, like a silken quagmire. Jean finds he wants more, and quickly tosses back the whole glass.

Eren grins at him, says, “You better slow down. It’s strong stuff, even for dryads.” Nonetheless, he pours them both some more. Jean follows this up with a grape, savoring the burst of sweetness as his teeth crunch into it.

Emboldened by the food and drink, Jean asks, “Why did you pick me for this adventure of yours?”

Eren shrugs. “Artists turn me on. Something soulful about them.”

Jean is tipping back his glass just as Eren speaks, so he’s not quite sure he hears properly, and in any case the meaning is lost in the surge of heat from the wine. There’s something teasing at the back of his mind, something about Eren’s words, and the woods, and the comforting smell that he almost half remembers, but he can’t quite capture it, and it’s all swallowed up in the fever flooding his body.

At this point, things start to get blurry for Jean. He squints at Eren across the small table. Eren looks different. He’s larger, swarthier. Something else about his skin has changed, too; it’s shifting in the dim light, strange, repeating patterns, whorls, are moving delicately across his face and bare arms.

In this hazy, intoxicating atmosphere, it seems perfectly natural for Eren to reach over with arms that are bigger and stronger-looking than they were before. He easily pulls Jean into his lap, which is now large enough to accommodate Jean. Jean finds himself twining around Eren like a vine, his arms slipping around Eren’s neck, his face sliding into Eren’s, his legs curling up under Eren’s. He has a sensation of Eren closing in around him, as though Jean is in thick underbrush. 

Eren’s mouth carries the same heady flavor as the wine. The space is spinning, and the only thing that feels real is Eren: Eren’s mouth, Eren’s arms clutching him, Eren’s body pressed into his, Eren’s voice whispering his name, over and over again.

Later, when the initial frenzy has subsided, he pushes Eren’s sweaty hair aside so he can trace one of Eren’s adorably pointy ears with his thumb. “What are you like without Natural Charm?”

“Uh, more plain, none of that _glowing_. It’s already starting to fade.” Jean can tell. There are hints of softer, more vulnerable lines on Eren’s face. “You’ll see for yourself- It’ll be gone by morning.”

“But I won’t be here in the morning. Remember? You’re depositing me back in my room before daybreak.”

“Oh,” says Eren, as if he’s already forgotten this important detail. His face falls a bit. Jean feels a hitch of disappointment in his own chest. It’s only Marco’s voice, echoing in a distant part of his brain - _You will not, I repeat, you will NOT fall for someone tonight. There will be no mushy statements of love. You will not gaze dreamily into someone’s eyes. If anything happens tonight, it will be strictly physical -_ that compels him to say, “Don’t give me that look. You promised something completely casual, a one-time thing. You’re not backing out now.”

Eren’s voice is small. “You’re right. I did. I won’t.”

Jean doesn’t like the small voice, nor the look in Eren’s eyes. He rolls on top of Eren, kissing him hard. Eren gasps and pulls Jean tightly in with his timbered arms.

Jean wakes up with a pounding headache. He stares up at his familiar ceiling. What a strange fucking dream. A guy- what was his name? Evan? Eren? In some weird enclosed place, like a dungeon, or a tower. And the things they were doing… Jean blushes to himself. Why was he having such vivid, explicit dreams about a stranger? 

“Jean?” Marco’s voice interrupts him. “Did you go _hiking_ last night?” Marco rarely sounds so pissed off.

Jean stumbles into their common space and stares, bewildered. Leaves and twigs litter the floor.

“What the fuck?” he says. A kaleidoscope of images moves through his brain. Eren arching his back, fists clenched, eyes closed. Eren, looming over him, his eyes like pools of fire. Jean’s mouth hot against Eren’s skin. Jesus! Did all that actually _happen_? It _wasn’t_ a fucking dream?

It takes a full hour to clean out the woodland debris, and their mini vacuum gets clogged about 15 times. Jean is cursing to himself by the time he makes it to the wooded area he remembers from last night.

Now, which one was it? He was backed into it, after all, so he’s not sure. He stands in what he thinks is the vicinity of Eren’s tree. Realizing he’s labeling it Eren’s tree, even in his mind, makes him wonder if he’s actually sane. Nonetheless, he calls out, loudly and angrily, “Eren?”

He repeats this several times, tapping his foot. He’s almost thinking that he’s going to go home, that it was, after all, a hallucination, and that the branches and twigs are one of those phenomena that happen and can never be explained, when there is a long sigh. Out of a sprawling, elegant oak tree steps Eren. 

He looks exactly the same as last night. “You rang?” he asks sarcastically, one eyebrow arched.

Jean gapes at him, blinks; narrows his eyes.

“Did you _drug_ me last night?”

  
Eren has the grace to blush. “I’m sorry about that. I should have known any present from The Boss would be booby-trapped. If it’s any consolation, he got me, too.”

Jean is a bit taken aback by the frank apology.

“It was pretty fun, though, wasn’t it?” Eren grins conspiratorially, as though expecting Jean to agree wholeheartedly.

“That’s beside the point.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining.”

“That’s because I was drugged. And bewitched- what the hell was that Charm and Seduction junk?”

“You liked it well enough last night.”

Jean finds himself moving towards Eren. Shit- did Jean just lick his lips?

“Ugh! You put more of that crap on!” He points his finger accusingly at Eren.

Eren smiles a pitying smile.

Jean backs away, holding up his arm. 

“Fuck. Get away from me!”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” asks Eren, his voice low and heavy.

Jean is pale and sweating. He really can’t resist, though. The Charms, coupled with the memories of the prior night, thoroughly undo him.

Later, kissing the hollow at the base of Eren’s throat, Jean murmurs, “Do you know how fucking hot you are?”

He glances up to see Eren smile. As before, it’s a sad smile. Jean gets a pang. The thought hits him again, hard, in the pit of his stomach: Eren wants someone else and he’s only settling for Jean because Jean is who he can get. Ah, well. Jean stuffs the feeling down as deep as it will go. He bites down slightly on Eren’s neck. It pleases him to hear Eren hiss in response. 

A pattern starts. Eren will appear out of nowhere, looking like an unholy sex god, and Jean will slam into him like they’re both life-size magnets.

“What’s it like to be a dryad?” he asks after one such encounter, idly running a finger across Eren’s hip. Eren is remarkably tickle-proof, and Jean enjoys the smooth, hard feeling of Eren’s skin under his fingers.

He would never tell Eren, but he’s starting to like this time with Eren the most, when Eren is worn out and satisfied, the Charm fading. It’s more real, somehow, something he can latch on to.

“It’s the best!” says Eren. “Not that I know anything else, of course. But, trees, man. What else can I say?”

“You do have a most beautiful tree.”

Eren smiles his unguarded smile, and Jean feels that faint pit-pat in his heart. He finds himself wondering what tree nymphs might like to do on a date. He squashes that thought immediately. Eren only wants him for sex. If he brings up other messy possibilities, Eren might stop showing up altogether.

Jean starts drawing again. He had stopped drawing when he realized in his first year of college how woefully untalented he was, and decided on a computer programming major instead. But lately he finds himself sketching Eren. They’re rough sketches, imperfect; however, one in particular seems to catch the essence of Eren, at least of his eyes. He decides to give it to Eren. It doesn’t have to mean anything, it’s just a stupid sketch after all. He wants Eren to have it.

Jean isn’t sure how to knock on a tree. He taps lightly on the bark.

Eren’s head shoots out. Without Natural Charm, Eren is softer around the edges. He doesn’t shine so glaringly brightly. He’s still fucking gorgeous, his wide eyes taking up half his face. But he’s not inhumanly beautiful.

He looks surprised to see Jean. Jean can tell he is about to scurry back into the tree. Maybe he’s going to stick on some Charm. 

Jean flings out a hand and grabs Eren, yanking him out of the tree before he can throw any of that crap on. He wants to be fully present when he gives Eren his drawing.

“This is for you,” he says gruffly, thrusting the paper into Eren’s hand.

Eren looks at the page. A delighted smile fills his face. “You’re drawing again!” He looks up happily at Jean, his eyes soft and warm. 

But Jean is giving Eren a puzzled look. “How do you know about me drawing? I’ve never talked about it with you. I don’t even talk about it with Marco.”

  
Eren doesn’t have an answer. His face takes on a guilty expression.

“Have you been _spying_ on me?” Jean asks incredulously.

“No!” Eren’s denial is too loud. It reeks of guilt.

  
Eren’s words at their first meeting come back to him – _I know Marco_. “You were lying at that party. You _didn't_ know Marco, did you? Are you a _stalker_?”

“No!” says Eren, stung.

“Then how do you know about my drawing? Why did you call me an artist, that first night? Why were you even at that party anyway? _You’re_ not on the swim team!” Jean’s not sure why he’s so angry. He feels ridiculously betrayed, as though he’s been sucker punched. He doesn’t understand why he cares so much. After all, Eren’s just his fuck buddy, right?

“Neither are you,” Eren points out, childishly.

“That’s not the point,” says Jean furiously. “I was there with Marco. You went there to set me up. I bet you knew about fucking Reiner. Maybe Reiner even told you about me. About how I'd be easy to get. To use as a ... a fucking sex toy!” _Because you couldn’t get who you really wanted,_ he adds to himself, which only makes him angrier.

“No! No! That's not how it was at all!" Eren looks as upset as Jean feels. He’s shaking his head wildly. Jean is shocked to see that there are tears in his eyes. “It was _you_!” Eren cries out piteously. “ _You_ came to _me_. Wearing your pretentious little beanie, with your fucking serious face.” He sounds half hysterical. “And then you looked up at the tree, _my_ tree, and you said-" Eren draws a breath and recites, " ‘I could keep trying for the rest of my life, but I would still never be able to draw anything as beautifully perfect as this tree.’ I fell in love with you that day.”

“That was... that was... three-"

  
“Three years ago,” says Eren savagely. “I know. It took me forever to gather my courage, and by then you were dating that prick. Finally you broke up with him, but I was almost out of time. And then I heard you and Marco talking outside the party. I panicked and used those stupid Charms, and then I couldn’t stop using them. I was afraid you wouldn't come to me without them. And now it will _never_ work. I've ruined everything!"

Jean stares at Eren in amazement. It's as though Eren is putting Jean's own feelings into words, through a different lens.

Eren puts his face in his hands. “Stupid!” he says fiercely, pressing his fingers so hard into his forehead that they're turning white. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” Tears are dripping off his face, down his arms.

The sight spurs Jean into action. He gently tugs Eren's hands from his face.

“Yeah, you stupid idiot,” he says softly. Eren looks up at him, dazed. He pulls Eren in close. “How could you ever think I wouldn’t want you?” he whispers into Eren's exquisite ear. Later, he will tell Eren his own pathetic insecurities. For now, he gathers Eren into him, hugs him as hard as he can. Pulling back, he cups Eren’s face in his hands. He kisses the puffy eyes. The wet cheeks. The swollen lips. He is infinitely tender. This is what he wants. The _real_ Eren. All of him. _His_ Eren.

They are sitting on the ground. Jean is leaning against the tree, Eren’s tree. Eren is tucked into the V of Jean’s legs. Jean’s arms are around Eren’s waist, holding him lightly but firmly. Eren is angled so his head can rest against Jean’s shoulder. His eyes are half closed.

Jean slides one hand down Eren’s forearm until it lies on top of Eren’s. He links his fingers with Eren’s and grips them tightly.

Every few moments, Eren dreamily shifts his head and kisses Jean’s chest, his chin, runs his free hand along Jean’s thigh. Each touch leaves a thrill of heat along Jean's body. Eventually, they will attend to that. For now, Jean is content to sit peacefully with his lover in his arms.

“Stupid _me_ , falling head over heels in love with a dryad,” Jean murmurs.

Eren grins. “I told you that I was terrible at random sexual encounters.”

“Lucky for me,” breathes Jean. He twists his face down to catch Eren’s mouth.

Eren is not wearing any Charms or Seductions. Nonetheless, Jean is wholly charmed and seduced. He doesn’t think he’s ever going to escape from the net Eren has woven, and frankly, he doesn’t mind one bit.


End file.
